Darkness
by catastrophic-art
Summary: Madara contemplates darkness, it's meaning, and how its grasp upon him will never be released. Rated T for suggestive themes and mild swearing.


Darkness.

Not something Madara was used to. He preferred light, as would anyone else. Of course, darkness was at times beneficial; stealth, being the most notable. But not this type of darkness. Not the type that gave you no hint or clue for how to escape it. Once you fell, you were lost forever. A labyrinth of shadows and hatred.

Hatred, Madara ponders. Hashirama had wondered where he'd received that word, and why he related it to darkness. Of course, he wouldn't understand. Hashirama was too good. Too full of light to be one with the darkness. However, all light has shadows. That could possibly be why Hashirama would continuously attempt to convince him to realize that yes, he had light within himself. If that were the case, it was a dim light. A dim light with many obstructions, casting numerous dark shadows all across the void of good and evil. Or was it peace and war? Life or death?

Madara doesn't know.

It's all a matter of connotation, he figures. People perceive light as many different things. The physical form, the philosophical form, a metaphorical form… the list is nearly endless, and Madara can't bring himself to search his mind and name them all, even to himself.

There's too much darkness, he can't find his way.

"Leave it be, Izuna."

A short bow, but his presence remains. Madara can sense it. A sort of sixth sense he was slightly grateful for, though it held very little purpose.

"Brother… Think over my proposal, just once more-"

"I shall do no such thing. You and I both know that it is a vain attempt and revitalizing the clan, and it's a fruitless effort. _Leave it be._"

Izuna sighs. His brother, the last of his immediate family, lost to the darkness. Lost in a blind state of helplessness. If there was anything Madara hated being more that anything, it was helpless. He cannot stand the feeling of being powerless, being without control. It nearly drives him mad.

"I offer the light you seek, the vision you need-"

"You are confusing this. You are just as qualified to lead as I am, and you shall maintain such a position until your time has been used. I've taught you everything you need to know about leading, and you yourself have the vision-" Oh, how he _hated_ that word, "-of a better world. A world of peace, a world without war…"

"You yourself said that it was impossible."

He is right, and Madara doesn't retort.

What is peace, he finds himself wondering. What does it mean to have a perfect balance of life and happiness, a carefree existence? Nothing, of course. Like Izuna says, as in his own words, it would never exist. There is no peace without war. He laughs at the many dreamers - who other than that Senju, being one of them - who talk of peace. A world of lies, is all it is. There will never be peace. No matter how utopian something seems, there are errors. Perfections is imperfection. Flawless is flawed. There is no way around it.

So why, despite this knowledge, this _fact_, do people strive for the silver lining of hope - oh, what a joke - that there's a solution to this problem?

And why call it a 'problem'? It's _nature_.

Run in circles, he tells the dreamers. You'll all wake up one day. Face reality with the burning sensation of the lies you've lived and hopes that you yourself have brought to its knees.

_Hashirama speaks of peace._

_It makes Madara sick to his stomach. _

"_One day, Madara," he speaks, a smile on his features as he looks upon the water, "there will be peace."_

"_You speak of this often, yet you have no way of telling me how you plan to make it happen."_

_A smile. That _damned _smile… "You shall see. I'll make sure you live to see the day."_

_A short 'hmph'. "You wish to make me immortal? How funny. I'll walk the earth for all eternity, cleaning up after your failures, then."_

_Hashirama laughs. "Your lack of hope can be a factor of why we never see peace. Peace needs everyone to me on the same side, as you know."_

"_No, I don't." Madara turns to face him directly. "Tell me, Hashirama, how do you intend to have everyone - enemies, allies, all of them alike - gather and agree to come to one side, hmm? You seem so sure in the fact that you have the influence to make this possible. You cannot change people, people can only change themselves. And that, my friend, is only if they _wish _to. They rarely do. People are stubborn, and-"_

"_Like yourself." An amused chuckle, and Hashirama turns to face him as well. "I'll get you to change sides." His voice drops now, and all amusement is gone, yet the smile remains. "I'll make you see that you, as well, have light."_

_A long silence ensures, and Madara says nothing, as does Hashirama. One who has always been so _adamant _about the light. "…I have no such thing."_

"_Deny it all you like, Madara, but I know it's in there. Why else would you agree to become one with the Senju clan?"_

"_For my people, my clan." He turns, gazing back out towards the ocean. "Not for you."_

"_I never said it was, or possibly could be, for me." He gives a fond smile, never taking his eyes off of him. "You only suggest these things."_

"_I do not need you to tell me what I have previously stated. I am simply making assumptions on your behaviors."_

"_Assumptions, hmm? I thought you were against those?"_

"_I make a dear exception for you, Senju."_

_A short laugh. "I see."_

He sees the light in his mind. He reaches for it. He wishes to grasp it and hold it, bask in it's pleasures and gifts that people take advantage of.

He reaches, but it's too far. It runs away, it escapes, it taunts him until he's become far beyond patient for it.

The light shall never be his, he muses.

And his destroyed eyes are no reason for this.

_Hashirama as become his guide, as twisted as it seems. Madara wished to stay inside, but he insisted. "It is a beautiful day," he claims._

_What a sick reason._

_Despite himself, Madara can feel the sun's heat being greedily taken in by his skin. He is lead into a field of sorts - he believes that, after the long walk they've taken, they're no longer in wither Senju now Uchiha territory. They're in a neutral land, and by the sounds, it remains untouched. Industrialization hasn't begun here, and the trees and grass around him hope that it shall stay this way._

_Yes, they hope. And what a pitiful thing it is to cling to._

"_You do not need eyes to see."_

"_You say that as though it is a simple task. What do you suggest, hmm?" His tone darkens, at least more that usual. "I open my eyes? Take in the image of what lies before me?"_

"_Feel."_

_And so he does. _

_The hands that rest on his face are calloused from years of war, yet gentle from the wishes of peace. Thumbs caress the eyelids gently, the lids that remain closed. Madara hates it when his eyes are opened. It is like opening an empty jar. Why bother? There's nothing inside, nothing to be seen. Pointless._

_And yet, he sees Hashirama before him. Memories. Images in his mind. For some reason, Hashirama's image is unbroken, clear. The only one to remain as such. And of course, just like every image, he is smiling. He wonders, in the back of his mind, what he would look like in this sunlight. The glow of the ultimate light source reflecting off of his dark skin. The sudden brightness of his eyes, the sudden shimmer in each grin._

_He wouldn't mind a new image every once in a while, he finds himself thinking._

_Familiar fingers now woven into his unruly hair, Madara still makes no move. How can he? He feels helpless and useless, unable to reciprocate as he would usually do in such an eager manner. But once more, after nearly another minute of his frozen state, Hashirama repeats that one word._

"Feel…_"_

_He doesn't realize what is happening until their bodies become one with the life around them. Tainting the purity or the untouched nature with their presence, yet creating a whole new serenity. _

_He will never tell Hashirama of how thankful he is for this day, this _moment_. The moment where he learns to see. _

_But the darkness remains._

"You shall see. One day, your dreams and visions and hopes will crash down into a fire of failure."

A humored chuckle. "A fire that _you_ shall start, I presume?" He pours his own tea, knowing Madara hates it (along with the paranoia that he refuses to admit having that anything offered from the Senju is poisoned).

"If it makes you realize all of your faults, then I shall do what I must."

"But of course."

A sip of tea is taken, and Madara sighs softly.

"You speak of my impending doom often, Madara. Do you intend to see it through? Do you intend to sabotage peace?"

"Don't be foolish." He allows a smirk, knowing that he surpasses the Senju's knowledge. "Peace sabotages itself."

There is a pause from Hashirama, for he has meant to bring this up for some times now… "And what of light?" Hashirama sets down his cup, approaching Madara, who stands and faces the window, as though he could look out upon the rest of the clan. "Does light sabotage itself?"

"In essence, yes. There is no darkness without light. Light produces shadows and it fades as it is spread farther. Light does not stretch on forever."

"Oh, but it does. Light shall remain." He stands next to the Uchiha, knowing full well that he was avoiding the light he spoke of.

"But with light, comes darkness. Everyone has both dark and light within them."

A smirk of victory. "Indeed, Madara. You are very well a man of light and darkness."

"Very little light. It's nearly faded."

His tone is just as serious as the rest of the conversation as he murmurs, "I shall give you my light."

Madara laughs, it's bitter, and yet so humored. Mocking, almost. Hashirama expects him to tell him that, no, that isn't possible. You cannot share light. Light is individual and unique, and there was no giving or taking involved. But his answer is far from it.

"It's too late for me."

How had this happened, Madara wonders. What had lead to this? Why did it have to be this way? He'd done what he could, guarded his clan, protected his brother, and yet… his fate was set. But why him? His brother speaks of his misfortune, and Hashirama only tells him that we can change things. But can you really? Can anyone change their fate? And is fate real? Is there really a set path for each of us to follow down, allowing us to find our way through the merciless thing known as life?

A long sigh, a hand through his hair. No answers will come of this.

He can only sit in silence, wish his fate was different, wish that it hadn't turned out this way, wish that he simply didn't have one.

Wish, wish, wish.

And wasn't he the one who scoffed at those who would hope, dream, and wish? Apparently so, and yet he does such a thing at the moment.

Oh, irony. Oh, hypocrisy.

Don't you know you cannot find your way? You and all of your other relatives of feeling and emotion? In a labyrinth of darkness, everyone succumbs to it. Just keep looking for a way out in vain. There's no escape. Just like death: it'll happen to us all, one day.

A tap on the door. It's hesitant and soft, just like Izuna's. At least the gift of hearing isn't one he's lost just yet. He tilts his head upwards in recognition, never moving from his position on the floor where his legs are crossed.

"Brother, it's me…"

As if he hadn't figured that out already. "Come in, Izuna." The door opens and shuts not too long after. He feels the light shuffling footsteps against the floor, and soon enough, he sits as well, directly in front of him. This was very unlike Izuna, approaching him in such a way. They never spoke of many matters, even though they were brothers. Personal issues were personal, and that was that.

However, lately, Izuna began to disregard such said boundaries.

A stretch of silence.

"If this is about my vision once more," Madara begins, a slightly bitter edge to his tone, "then you may kindly turn from whence you came and what you were doing."

"This is about your eyes, brother," he says matter-of-factly. "I simply request to know one thing: why is it that you, a man of power and leadership, refuse to accept the light that you need? You say that you are shrouded and surrounded by the darkness, and I can alleviate you of it-"

"We do not speak of the same darkness, brother." He shakes his head. "Taking your eyes would only allow me to be brought further into this damned darkness." He doesn't wish to speak of this more… he's afraid that he may give in to the temptation. Such a terrible thing that was… but nonetheless, he continues: "I cannot take your eyes-"

"You would not be taking them. I would be giving them to you."

"It does not matter whether I accept or refuse the, but more of a matter of selfishness. A matter of greed. I could never take something so valuable… A damnable existence such as this is not meant for you, my brother. You don't deserve such a fate." He sighs. "Once lost, the sight cannot be replaced…"

"And here I am, offering the impossible. Offering you a replacement. Why will you not take this?"

"I cannot fathom being the one responsible for your loss of sight." He shakes his head. If he did something as such… he'd never be able to live with himself…

"I am giving them to you. My eyes are yours. From one brother to another."

Madara's head remains bowed. But his hand does move. He can't live like this anymore. He tells himself to refuse, to push him away, something,_ anything_ to stop this…! But before he even realizes what it happening, his fingers encircle his brothers eyes, the contact almost too fateful, too ironic to be mere coincidence.

Izuna takes a slow breath, knowing that this was bound to happen eventually, sooner or later. Madara was the one who was meant to lead, not Izuna. Madara had the qualities necessary to lead the clan to survival, to superiority. Not him…

But now, he senses hesitation. Madara has his head bowed even lower, and his shoulders shake ever so softly. A single choked gasp is all it takes to know what is going on…

"I…" One hand rests on the back of his head, stroking Izuna's hair. In a sense, it soothes him, makes him relax for what is coming… "I never wanted to do this, brother…"

There is the slightest amount of pressure applied around his eye, and Izuna knows that it will finally happen…

"I'm so s-sorry…"

The softest of sighs. "I know."

"I-I love you, brother…"

Even as his fingers, now covered in the vibrant crimson of blood, are held before his face, realizing that the light is back, he can see, vision is within is grasp…

Izuna smiles. He gives him that soft smile, the one he'd given all his life towards Madara. Be he knows… Madara knows that it is a façade for dealing with the blindness. It is a way to comfort Madara.

And yet, after gaining his vision, basking in the light…

Darkness.


End file.
